


Mother's Day

by vjs2259



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-28
Updated: 2007-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three short scenes about mothers, follows the story Lilacs, set during Season 2, following Race Thru Dark Places. Babylon 5 characters really do have issues with their mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

**Loss**

 

Susan Ivanova stood on the bridge, looking out into space, contemplating life and death, and which state seemed preferable at the moment. She hated being reminded of her mother when she wasn’t expecting it. She’d completely forgotten that Mother’s Day was coming up, until she’d asked the Captain why he was going shopping after the staff meeting. Not that it was his fault; she had asked, and it would have been awkward if he hadn’t answered. He knew most of the story, and she was sure Garibaldi knew as well, since he made it his business to know everything. She wasn’t sure about the doctor, although she was sure he had been told by now. She sighed, there wasn’t even any traffic tonight to distract her. Hell, she was even up to date on her paperwork!

She wished there was someone she could talk to. As second in command, a position she had worked hard to earn, and of which she was extremely proud, she was restricted in potential friendships. The command staff, certain civilians, maybe the ambassadors and their aides…that was about the extent of it. All the military personnel were below her in the chain of command, and she tried hard to show no favoritism, which meant no close friendships. None of the men she worked closely with were likely to bring up such an emotional topic. No, she thought, that wasn’t completely true: Franklin would talk about anything if he thought a patient needed it, and Garibaldi would shame the devil if he thought station security was involved. The Captain would respect her privacy unless it affected her ability to do the job, but if she initiated the conversation he would be there for her, as a friend, not just a commanding officer.

She could talk to Talia, if she were here, instead of off station doing that job for IPX. Now there was an unlikely friendship. This brought her thoughts circling back to her mother, and the time she had told Talia the story of her death. At the time Talia had been sympathetic, but she hadn’t fully understood the horrible choice Susan’s mother had had to make. Talia still clung to the belief that PsiCorp had its positive aspects. Susan knew better.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Garibaldi, seemingly appearing out of nowhere at her side. “Are you coming down to Earhart’s later tonight? I’m meeting Stephen there; don’t know if the Captain will make it.”

“I don’t feel like it tonight.”

“Come on, Susan. Maybe it’s not a good idea to be alone tonight. I sure could use the company. It’s no fun watching the women hang all over Stephen without someone to help me rate them.”

Susan had to smile at this; they had worked on the system off and on for months. “Oh, all right. I have another hour to put in until my relief shows.”

“Okay, mind if I hang out a little while?”

“Not if you’re going to try out your sympathy routine. It doesn’t suit you.”

Garibaldi grimaced, “That must be why I can’t get the girls. No bedside manner.”

Susan laughed out loud at this, “If you’re talking about Stephen, you must be kidding! When it comes to his patients, he either intimidates them into obedience, or wears them down until they submit.”

Garibaldi replied “I wasn’t referring to his professional technique!” Raising his eyebrows, he went on, “You know how they home in on him at Earhart’s. Something he does works.”

She tilted her head and gave him a disbelieving stare, “Try to imagine how he looks to the female eye sometime. Add his apparent lack of interest, and you have a magnet.”

Garibaldi chuckled, then, turning serious, he asked “So, how are you doing? It was kinda awkward this morning, the whole Mother’s Day thing. I wasn’t sure how you felt about it.”

Susan sighed, “You learn to deal. It’s been 15 years. I’ve lived longer without her than I did with her. Of course, it’s debatable how much of her was really there those last few years. The sleepers do strange things to your mind, Michael. Strange, scary things.”

He nodded in silence, looking out at the stars rather than at her face. “At least she tried. She tried damned hard to stay with you. My mom up and left us without a word--no note, no phone call. I tried for years to track her down, but I guess she didn’t want to be found.”

Susan reached out and placed one hand on his arm, “That’s tough.” The silence got longer, and she said hesitantly, “Listen, why don’t you go on ahead. My relief usually gets here a little early. I’ll leave as soon as I can. Tell Stephen not to start without me.”

Garibaldi replied softly, “All right.” Then he added threateningly, “But if you don’t get down there soon, I’m coming back to get you, and I won’t leave alone.”

“You and what army? Get outta here. You’re off duty—go enjoy it!” She gave him a playful shove.

He held his arm in mock pain and said, “That’s assault, Commander! You owe me for that. Better pay up or I’ll file charges. I happen to know the head of Security pretty well…”

She laughed as he walked off the bridge, still rubbing his arm and kvetching. Then she returned to her contemplation of the stars. She had a little more time to make her peace with the day, before she had to put on a smile, and join the others.

 

**Leaving**

 

Stephen Franklin entered Earhart’s and looked around to see if any of the command staff were already there. They generally got together on a Friday evening to unwind a little together. He spied Michael Garibaldi sitting off to one side, nursing a tall glass filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. After picking up a drink from the bar, he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, reversed it with one hand, and sat down across from Michael. “So, are you waiting for anyone in particular?”

“You’ll do. Have a seat…I guess you already have.” Garibaldi’s voice was subdued.

“What’s up? Did you pull weekend duty again? You do know you set the schedule for Security…”

“Oh, like you take any time off at all, Mr. On call 24/7!”

Stephen’s face fell a bit, “It’s not like I have anyone waiting for me at home. We’re both workaholics…not sure if it’s by choice or by default.”

“Oh, now this is getting depressing. Let’s change the subject. Did you get your mom a card?”

“Finally. Had an emergency come up, so I had to leave Sheridan to do his shopping alone. I went out later and sent something along. It’ll get there late, but she won’t mind. She’s put up with a husband and son in EarthForce, and a daughter in the diplomatic corps, for years. She’s used to getting mail from far off places; weeks, sometimes months, late.”

“Guess she would be. That must have been hard, having your dad away so much.”

“It was part of the deal, I guess. It’s funny, I remember him leaving more than I remember him returning. It was always hard when he came back. He’d change the rules on us, just to re-assert his authority as head of the house. It never seemed to piss my mom off; I guess she was just glad to have him home. She did a good job raising the four of us, mostly on her own.” Stephen paused to take a sip of his drink. “The wars were hard, especially the last one. When I got back to Earth afterwards, she wouldn’t talk about it, but there was a lot more gray in her hair.”

“Your dad must have been in the middle of it.”

“Yeah, he was; he saw a lot more action that I did. I was in the brig, until they let me out near the end. They needed everyone they could get by then.”

Garibaldi shook his head in sympathy. “Jail’s never a fun place to be. I wonder what my mom did during the war? I know she didn’t come to my dad’s funeral. She could have died years before. Hell, she could even have been killed in the war. I can’t believe I’ll never find out why she left.”

Stephen stared down at the table for a moment, then looked up and said “Nobody knows what goes on in another person’s head, Michael. I don’t believe even telepaths can see everything in someone’s mind. There are private thoughts, ways of looking at things, that can’t be translated or read or understood. Your mom, Susan’s--even John’s and mine--they have this connection with us, but we forget they had lives before we were around, and they go on living their lives after we leave.”

“Sometimes, they leave us.”

“Yes, they do. For a while, or forever. Mentally, physically, or both. Hell, my dad left us all the time, and everyone approved, even applauded his devotion to his job. Susan’s mother stayed as long as she could; maybe yours did too. We just can’t know other people’s personal demons, what makes them run, and what makes them stay.”

They both jumped as a bottle was slammed onto the center of the table. “Hi guys. You both look like hell. What’s going on?” Susan sat down and filled her glass from the bottle. “I think we need to declare a moratorium on serious tonight. Time to relax, maybe even time to party.”

Both men laughed, then smiled at her and raised their glasses in approval. Just then, a slender blonde woman approached the table. They hadn’t noticed, but music had been playing in the background, and couples were beginning to migrate to the small dance floor in the center of the room.

“Dr. Franklin? I’m Julie Anderson; I work second shift in Medlab Two? I supervise the technical staff. I wonder if you’d care to dance?” She was almost stuttering in her anxiety, and two tables over, her friends were cheering and clapping in enthusiastic support.

Stephen said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the delay in lab tests on second shift. Is there a problem with the equipment?” The woman visibly wilted as she began to formulate an agonized reply. “On the other hand, maybe we should discuss this out there,” Stephen flashed his brilliant smile as he gestured towards the dance floor. He stood and offered his arm to the now beaming Lieutenant Anderson, and they walked off.

“Eight,” said Garibaldi.

“No way,” replied Susan, taking another drink, “Seven at most, and that’s with extra points for having the chutzpah to ask your boss to dance.”

They continued to bicker amiably, as the evening wore on, and their day came to a close.

 

**Longing**

 

The scent of the lilacs that Captain Sheridan had so thoughtfully purchased for her earlier that day filled her quarters. She wondered if his mother would like the framed portrait she had helped him pick out for a Mother’s Day gift. He had looked so pained when she had spoken of her own mother, but she had simply stated the truth when she had said she did not know her. As the evening came to an end, and she made her preparations to retire for the night, she wondered why her mother was still in her thoughts.

Delenn ra’Mir was almost 44 cycles old, and had long ago accepted her mother’s decision to leave her family and enter service as a Sister of Valeria. Her own life of service had been demanding, and left little room for personal relationships. She had never taken a mate, and had given no thought to children for years. It was hard for Minbari females to conceive, and even harder for them to carry to term. Now, after her change, there was little possibility of either mate or child.

She wondered if her mother would approve of her transformation. Having only met her twice, once at 8 cycles before her formal induction into the religious caste, and again at 20 cycles, at the end of her training, she couldn’t know. Her mother’s choice was a great honor for their clan, but she had still felt a sense of loss. Her father had been a comfort, a wise and caring man who hid his own grief to better help his daughter with hers. Later, she had had the companionship of her tutor Draal, who was a friend of her father’s, as well as a noted scholar. It was through Draal that she met Dukhat, whom she would eventually serve as acolyte.

So many memories, and almost none of her mother. Usually she felt proud of her mother’s calling, but her talk with the Captain earlier in the day had made her a little uncomfortable. As he had posed for the photographer, he had told her stories--wonderful stories of his family--his parents, his sister, their home on Earth. It was exotic and fascinating, these recollections of what seemed to be an almost idyllic childhood. Not that hers had been unhappy, not at all. Although today, somehow, she felt that something had been lacking.

The door chime sounded, and she jumped at the sound. Glancing at the chronometer on her desk, she realized it was quite late. She said, “Open,” hoping it was not some diplomatic emergency that she would have to deal with at this hour.

Captain Sheridan stepped into the room. He always seemed to be ducking when he entered a room on the station, though, even at his height, his head easily cleared the doorway. He was carrying a folder, which he extended to her. “You mentioned at the Council meeting this afternoon that you hadn’t seen this report. I thought I’d drop by with a copy for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out for it. He released the folder a moment too early and it fell to the floor. They both reached for it at the same time, and bumped heads. Sheridan lost his balance, and toppled backwards onto the floor.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his head.

Delenn, flustered, apologized profusely, and extended a hand to help him. As their fingers touched, she felt a rush of warmth surge through her. She wished fervently that she knew exactly what these feelings meant, and whether he was feeling them too.

As he rose to his feet, he kept hold of her hand for longer than was strictly necessary, and stared into her eyes, as if looking for the answer to an unknown question. He finally said, “The lilacs smell wonderful.”

“Yes, they do. I believe the scent will remind me always of the holiday you are celebrating.”

“Mother’s Day,” he replied, releasing her hand gently. “I’d better be going, early day tomorrow.”

“I also have early meetings. Sleep well, Captain.”

He smiled, and bending down to pick the folder up off the floor, laid it on her desk. “Good night then,” and before she could think of anything further to say, he was gone.

 

A strange longing filled her heart—longing for her lost mother, for her father, her teachers, her home. She felt painfully aware of the hopeful dreams and possible lives that had long ago passed her by. “Lights,” she called as she left the sitting room for her bedroom. Her last errant thought was _‘He would make a wonderful father.’_

 

 

 


End file.
